


The Parish House

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Time, Floor Sex, Frottage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 21:42:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18157388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: Mycroft and Greg are forced to take shelter from a storm





	The Parish House

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EventHorizon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EventHorizon/gifts).



Greg cursed as he peered through the windshield at the blowing snow. “We’re not gonna make it,” he muttered. 

Mycroft was already on his mobile. “I believe we’ll encounter a village momentarily. We can find somewhere to stop.”

“All because your idiot brother managed to get himself arrested and needs you to personally fetch him,” grumbled Greg, correcting as the rear of the car threatened to slide.

Mycroft resisted the urge to grab onto something. “It does happen on occasion. I appreciate you driving.”

The first buildings of the village suddenly loomed before them. Greg came to a stop and gave Mycroft a grin. “At least this way I knew you were safe with the weather coming in. Wait here, I’ll see if I can figure out where we can stay.”

Mycroft winced as cold air blasted into the warm car. Greg vanished into the snow and Mycroft couldn’t help the trickle of anxiety he felt as he waited for his return. Fortunately, it wasn’t long before Greg returned with a young woman.

The woman got into the driver’s seat without a word and Greg climbed into the back. Mycroft watched as she drove carefully through the village, pulling up in between a cemetery and a tiny house.

“I’ll return your car when the weather clears,” she said. “Otherwise it will be at the pub.”

“Thanks. Never would have found it in this weather,” said Greg, picking up their bags.

Mycroft opened the door a bit reluctantly, closing his eyes against a cold blast. Greg reached out and took his hand, pulling him the short distance to the front door.

They stumbled inside and Greg dropped their bags. Mycroft secured the front door while Greg quickly located the fireplace.

Mycroft shivered and looked around, listening to Greg get a fire started. It was a parish house, clearly not regularly used in quite some time, but still maintained. He took a breath and set about investigating the rest of the cold house, finding some quilts and blankets in the bedroom and some tins of soup in the kitchen.

When he stepped into the parlor he found Greg had managed to get the fire going and was crouched in front of it. He dropped the blankets on the floor and removed his own scarf and overcoat.

“Just like camping out in the house,” said Greg, smiling up at him.

“I am grateful for the shelter,” said Mycroft, taking a seat on the rug and pulling out his mobile. Of course there was no signal at the moment. He set it aside and started unfolding some of the blankets. “It will be warmer to sleep here than in the bedroom.”

“Yeah, makes sense. I will say I do make a pretty good bed warmer, I’ve been told.” Greg gave him a mischievous look.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you?”

Greg’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Well I tend to run hot,” he said.

“I wouldn’t disagree with that,” said Mycroft, moving closer to him.

Greg’s eyes drifted to his lips, then back up to his face. “Mycroft?”

“Yes, Gregory?” Mycroft scooted until he was sitting next to Greg, thighs touching. “You seem a bit flush already.”

“You know what you do to me, you bastard,” Greg’s voice was breathy, no venom to his words.

“I do. And I know that you volunteered to drive me to a remote location, despite the distinct possibility of bad weather. And we seem to be all alone.”

Greg swallowed hard, studying Mycroft’s gaze. Mycroft reached and cupped his cheek, drawing him into a kiss.

Moaning softly, Greg reached out and fisted the front of Mycroft’s shirt. Mycroft smiled into the kiss and pushed Greg onto his back, slipping his tongue into his mouth. He could feel Greg’s interest underneath him and slowly ran his fingers through Greg’s hair.

“God, Mycroft,” muttered Greg when he finally pulled back.

“You’re an amazing man, Gregory Lestrade,” said Mycroft, stroking his cheek.

Greg smiled up at him. “Thanks. So. Whatever will we do to while away the hours?”

“I can think of a few things,” said Mycroft, unbuttoning Greg’s jeans.

“Me too,” said Greg, reaching up to unbutton Mycroft’s shirt.

Mycroft leaned down to kiss him again as they undressed one another. They were unhurried as the wind howled outside, driving snow against the windows, making the fire flicker. They were in a world unto themselves, focused on the slide of fabric, hands trailing along exposed flesh. The taste of soft kisses. The whisper of soft moans.

Finally, when they were both naked, Mycroft wrapped his hand around both their cocks.

Greg groaned, eyes closing. Mycroft was almost startled by the trust placed before him. 

Mycroft leaned in and kissed him gently, stroking them together. Greg wrapped his arms around him, moving with him. Mycroft dropped his head to nibble on Greg’s shoulder and Greg licked the shell of his ear.

There was no need to hurry, but neither could the moment last forever. Already Mycroft could feel himself tighten as he drew close.

Greg bit down on his ear lobe and Mycroft gave a startled cry as he came, feeling Greg following him over moments later.

They panted together, reveling in more slow kisses as their hearts slowed. Finally, Mycroft pulled back again. “I’ll find something to clean us up,” he murmured, reluctantly leaving the circle of Greg’s arms.

There was a cloth in the water closet and luckily the water worked. He brought it back and knelt next to Greg, swiping up the mess on his stomach.

“Brr,” said Greg, shivering.

Mycroft finished what he was doing and leaned down to kiss Greg’s stomach, making him giggle. “Come’re, you,” Greg muttered, tugging him over.

Mycroft tossed the cloth aside and pulled the blankets over them both, curling up against Greg’s side, leg thrown over him.

Greg held him close. “So tomorrow we collect your brother, get home, and…?”

“I have all the supplies we need at my home, if you’d like to take this further,” murmured Mycroft into Greg’s throat.

“I’ll be there with bells on.”

**Author's Note:**

> Vulpesmellifera mentioned that there needed to be more Mystrade snowed in fics, and here we are.
> 
> You can find me on twitter and tumblr at merindab


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